Him
by The Hobbit Ivy
Summary: My wife is gone. My... well, he is gone too. I hope and pray every day that he is not as gone as his mother is... am I destined to lose everyone I am close to?


A/N: Hello, all! I apologize for my absence in the writing world. I believe that some of the best fanfiction are the little dips into a character's thoughts in their lowest of moments... I wrote this a few months ago when I was feeling inspired by a few short stories about Legolas' homecoming from the WotR. Most of those homecomings involved his wife or lover, but I decided to focus instead on the relationship with his father. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own only my own words and vision, not the characters.

* * *

**_Him_**

It was hard; not to remember. Not when _he_ was everywhere.

I sit at the high table in the great hall, pushing my food around in a very un-kinglike way. It had not been the easiest of times in recent weeks past, but now that the day was won, _his _absence was all the stronger.

I am too tired to bother any longer; I give up the pretense of eating and rise from my seat. I catch a glance at the seat next to mine – empty for nearly a year now. I sigh and push on. The eyes of my advisors follow me as I left the hall. I know what they are thinking:

Pity.

It makes sense, I think bitterly. By rights, I should be pitied. 'The poor Elvenking with his absent heir'. Perhaps… perhaps I would have to rule this realm forever. I do not want to. The prospect is not one I would look forward to.

I make my way through the empty halls slowly. I feel the weariness of centuries and millennia catch up with me as I walk. It is as if my entire life was being called to exist in that one singular moment.

I pass so many things that called _him _to mind. Behind that curtain is where _he _had hid as a small child – afraid of _his_ nanny and what punishment she would inflict upon the misbehaving little elf. Over there is where my baby had taken _his _first steps. And more recently in that alcove over there, I had caught a glance of _him _with a she-elf or two. I chuckle when I realize what I had been thinking about, but there was no joy in the sound. Well, not very recently.

I come to the royal wing and slowly push the door open. The not-at-all modest living quarters suit my status as king, and the large rooms seem all the emptier now.

My wife is gone. My… well, _he _is gone too. I hope and pray every day that _he_ is not as gone as his mother is.

I have lived in these rooms my entire life. I have lived, laughed and loved here. All of that happiness seems very far away right now.

_Am I destined to lose everyone I am close to?_

The thought comes unbidden and quite suddenly and I push it out of my mind with a vengeance. I will not think that way. It is not certain that my… _he_ was gone. He could be here right now, actually.

My hope perks up and I turn around and lean out into the hallway to give it a glance. I know that I won't see anyone, though. I pull myself back together.

It is too much to hope, I think sullenly.

Resigning myself for another day to close with _his _absence, I push open the door to the left of my own bedchamber. It is a self-destructive habit, I know, to look for _him _when I know that he will not be in there. I give the room a glance, knowing what I will see – a large bed with undisturbed bedcovers, the table on which sat the book _he_ had read before _he _had left, and a stale smell in the air of a room that had been left shut for many months – and this does not let me down. I turn around, shut the door behind me, and step into my room. I am ready for a long night of rest.

Upon entering, I feel something is different and realize that my bed is otherwise occupied.

I stop in my tracks. There is a blonde head nestled among the great quantity of pillows and silken blankets. I nearly stop breathing. I rush over to the side of the bed and gaze down at _him_.

My son.

"L-Legolas?" I croak. Legolas' open eyes focus and he smiles at me.

"Hello, Father." He sits up and yawns and rubs his eyes, just like he had done as a small child.

"You are home, son," I say, feeling my eyes tear up as it starts to sink in.

"Yes, I am. Mind if I have a bath before you interrogate me?" Legolas asks with a cheeky grin.

"What?" It takes a moment, but I do recover. "Get out of my bed, filthy elf, and we'll talk when you look like a Prince again." My words may be harsh, but my voice is not. It is the answer I know that Legolas had hoped to hear. I am rewarded with another impish grin. He left the room. I begin to laugh. My cheeky son. Sneaking around the back to make his grand entrance on his own terms. Yes, I have raised a good elf.

"Father?" Legolas says, his head reappearing around the doorframe.

"Yes, son?"

"I missed you."

"I missed you too. Now get clean."


End file.
